Harry Potter and the Kind of Secret Room
by Caseus
Summary: THE KIND OF SECRET ROOM THAT NO ONE KNOWS ABOUT HAS BEEN OPENED. THE STYROFOAM MONSTER HAS BEEN RELEASED. The long-awaited sequel *cough* to Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Novelty Rubber Chicken!
1. An Excess of Tofu

_Hello all! We (the co-authors) hope you enjoy our second parody of the Harry Potter series! We like reviews almost more than blue cheese, so it'd be great if you could drop a few words about how we're doing!  
_

_All characters (underneath their replacement names) belong to JK Rowling._

**Chapter One: An Excess of Tofu**

It was that time of the morning. It was that time of the morning when the birds rise from their nests, eyes blinking, and songs already bursting from their eager beaks. It was that time of morning when the dewdrops glisten like emeralds fallen from heaven on the sweet morning grass. It was that time of morning when a human child, approximately the size, weight and roughly the shape of a water buffalo lumbered queasily down the stairs to discover a single slice of grapefruit on his breakfast plate. It was that time of the morning.

"MUUUU-UUUM!" the boy hollered.

His cousin, a weedy boy of twelve, squidged down a little further in his chair. Ever since Dudley Dursley had started on his foul diet, he had made Harry's life a living hell.

Harry didn't mind though. Although the whole Dursley family was forced to go on the same diet to appease Dudley (Harry included, even though he had frequently pointed out to his Aunt that his last name was not Dursley, but Potter.) Harry had even argued that the diet wasn't even mentioned until the fourth book, though he had to admit that the earlier, the better – Dudley needed to crabwalk in order to get through a doorway.

But Harry actually had friends who sent him food at his request. Hidden under a floorboard in his room were numerous grapefruit and packets of grapefruit enhancer ('Well,' his friend Rhon had reasoned in his letter, 'we thought there's no harm in you losing a few pounds either'.) Harry's friend and the groundskeeper at his school, Hiphag, had sent Harry something larger, and certainly not grapefruit, but it was made of tofu (Hiphag being very close to nature. In fact, in Soviet Russia, nature was close to him) and therefore inedible.

Hiphag had sent him something purplish and wobbly called I Can't Believe It's Tofu and Not Grapefruit! Harry shuddered upon reading the label. No matter what anyone said, he remained adamant that tofu substitutes in the wizarding world were most probably made of Doxy droppings. Harry had only received one packet of remotely passable junk food. It was a small box of Wonka Nerds which smelt of arsenic, to which Harry took reasonable offence. After much thorough consideration, and much self-assurance that true nerds were pwnsome, he wisely decided not to touch it.

His mind snapped away from his secret (if not rather dubious) store of food when Uncle Vernon mentioned, "It's a special day today."

Harry couldn't believe it, and nearly choked on the grapefruit he was not chewing. Could the Dursleys possibly have remembered...? Could they possibly have finally realised that it was his birthday, his first step into the life-changing age of twelve?

Aunt Petunia looked at her husband with eyes sweet enough to paralyse a kitten. Harry's eyes widened. Now, at last, was Uncle Vernon was going to acknowledge the fact that his nephew, his very own nephew, was born on this day, exactly twelve years ago, and therefore deserved congratulations, well-wishing, and preferably a very large store of presents, including but not limited to, the new and very awesome Nintendo Puu?

Uncle Vernon could contain it no longer. "I'm getting a custom-made toupee!" he squealed in a cacophony of joy. Aunt Petunia and Dudley emitted noises of general surprise and happiness. "Oh, it's nothing," he continued modestly, his tone turning to pure revulsion in the next second when turning to Harry, "His Hairiness the Toupee Master will be calling in on us tonight, so no _funny_ business."

"Ha-ha?" enquired Harry innocently.


	2. Snitchy's Ramble

**Chapter Two: Snitchy's Ramble**

The evening came of swifter than a swiffler drunk on decomposed weasel-juice, and Harry quickly found himself confined to his bedroom.

"No funny business," Uncle Vernon told him sharply. Harry held his tongue from the urge to point out that locking an underage boy in his room to prevent him annoying a travelling toupee salesman WAS funny business.

As soon as his uncle had descended the stairs, Harry turned to his bed.

With a loud POP, a small and weird looking creature, somewhat resembling a Mr. Potato Head, appeared on his bed.

"Wh- wh- What are you?" Harry stuttered in surprise, shock, astonishment, amazement, disbelief and various mixtures of those emotions.

"I am Snitchy," said the creature. "I am a house elf. And I came to warn Harry Potter sir, that he must not go back to Hogwimps!" And for no particular discernable reason, the house elf began to whomp itself around the head with a croquet bat.

"Oi!" Harry yelled, snatching the croquet bat. "That's for my personal use!"

Snitchy raised an eyebrow. "And what, pray, does Mr Harry Potter sir use a croquet bat for?

Harry hastily shoved his Dursley voodoo dolls under the bed with his foot. "Erm – it's strictly for decorational purposes - but look here, you can't stay. You need to go now." Snitchy's lower lip wobbled.

Suddenly remembering his manners, Harry added hastily - "Not that I'm pleased to have you, Snitchy, you're very - very -"

Snitchy could put on mighty endearing puppy eyes when he wanted to.

"Very potato-like," finished Harry, "and I love potatoes, oh yes, very much..." he trailed off awkwardly.

Snitchy stared.

"You know, potatoes are really lovely when hacked into small pieces and deep-fried-"

"Mr Potter Sir, Snitchy is highly honoured to hear with his unworthy ears your wonderful ramblings of such an excellent tuber! But I must repeat myself, you must not return to Hogwimps."

It was Harry's turn to stare. "Are you nuts?? If I continue to stay here and eat from the Dursley's dinner table I'll become a vegetable!"

"And join Snitchy in a veggie-partnership, sir?" said the house-elf hopefully.

"Look - I have to go back to Hogwimps. My friends are there, like Rhon, Hiphag, and almost Hermitwo as well."

"But there is great danger brewing, sir...great danger that you should not bring yourself into!"

Harry waved an airy hand. "If you're talking about Six Fish, I can vouch that I thrashed Finnigan the last three times -"

"I am not referring to immature adolescent games of flatulence. There is a plot - a plot to make the most terrible things happen at horrible, yea and verily, more terrible even than the great Dandruff Epidemic of 1634. I have tried to deter you already...I had the honour of adding just a little, ah, liquid discomfort to your most revered candy for the greater good..."

"It was YOU who sent me the arsenic-laced nerds!" said Harry, outraged.

Snitchy looked nervous. "Promise me you won't go back to Hogwimps, Mr Harry Potter sir." From behind his back his pulled a candy cane. Harry swiped for it and missed.

Snitchy ran out of his room, into the corridor, down the stairs, with Harry blindly following him, muttering the word 'sugar' repeatedly under his breath. So great was his delusion that as he made a turn into the smacked right into a stack of toupees being presented to Uncle Vernon.

"Alas!" cried Archihairy (the salesman.) "The only wigs in the world made out of the finest panda ear-fluff money can buy, ruined!"

Uncle Vernon's face took upon the likeness of a blue beetroot, his usual colour when he felt some measure of agitation. "POTTER!"

Harry swallowed. "Neep."

"Very true, boy," said Vernon grimly, "I'm glad you perceive the direness of your situation."

"Eep."

"You judge rightly - you shall be locked in your bedroom for the rest of the summer and never return to that hippy school of yours again. Oh, don't worry, we'll give you meals...when we feel like it." And with a rather nasty grin, he dragged Harry up the stairs and padlocked his door as securely as it was possible for Muggles.

When he had finally hammered in the tenth bolt, taped up the sides with sticky tape, and, for extra measure, placed two small porcupines on sentry duty outside, Harry decided it was time to mention that he wasn't actually inside the room yet, and waved his hand in front of his Uncle's face to prove his point.


	3. Rhon's Place

**Chapter Three: Rhon's Place**

Two hours later, sulky and with all his voodoo dolls confiscated, Harry stared glumly at the ceiling. There were spiders crawling over it, and he felt painfully nostalgic about his toilet cubicle under the stairs. It was while he was contemplating the benefits of having accessible plumbing when he heard a loud tapping on the windowsill.  
Harry ran to his window and stared out in shock.

"ZOMG! Rhon! Fred! Lord Stumpy! What are you doing here?" he cried, for it was indeed them. "More to the point, what is that?!"  
"Well," said Fred, grinning at Harry. "It's a flying Horse-and-buggy."  
"We're too poor to own a Ford Anglia," Lord Stumpy added.  
"Quick," said Rhon, "Hop in. Ploppy the horse here gets nervous when we spend too much time levitating... and, well, let's just say he didn't get his name for nothing."  
Harry scrambled about his room, collecting spell books, robes, spare underwear and the like. He quickly bundled his caged Hippofluffyduck in a loose tea towel, and shoved it all out the window to his friends.

As soon as he had escaped the confines of his room, the four of them soared off into the moon-bathed night.  
"So, Harry," asked Rhon conversationally, "What on earth got you locked up this fine night?"  
"I knocked over a case of panda hair toupees," Harry explained. The Weasley brothers nodded gravely. "Why are you rescuing me?"  
"You're my friend, of course," Rhon told him.  
"We had to sneak past Percy," said Lord Stumpy. "Mum makes him guard our room at night in case we try to escape."  
"But he let us past when we told him we were going to rescue you, Harry," Fred continued. "He was acting really weird, actually."  
"Yeah, he clapped me on the shoulder and said 'For the greater good'," said Lord Stumpy. "And he kept looking at my ear and getting all teary eyed."  
"It was really strange," said Rhon. "I think he was reading something, but I couldn't see what it was."  
Soon daylight crept up on the four, as they sailed towards a large, lopsided old house on the horizon.

Harry was delighted to see the odd-looking building. "Drat, I forgot my camera! This would've been the perfect photo opportunity!"  
In answer to Rhon's questioning stare, he continued, "I'm collecting pictures of ancient architecture."  
"That's my house," said Rhon bluntly.  
"Ah," said Harry.

"Touchdown!" Fred said, landing the horses smoothly on the front lawn. "And just in time, too," he added, as the horses lunged for the outdoor spa and pool table for a well-earned rest.

Rhon, Fred, and Lord Stumpy, however, didn't have the luxury of embracing their return with similar zeal. Mrs Weasley was striding across the lawn towards them, and Harry could've sworn he heard a noise akin to a kettle whistling.

"Have you any idea how worried I've been?" she said with a deathly expression.  
Lord Stumpy had an expression of strained politeness upon his visage. "Erm...pretty worried?"

Rhon was wiser. He pushed Harry to the front of the little group. "Hey, mum, look who turned up in the middle of the night!"  
Mrs Weasley's face turned to pure joy. "Harriet! Oh goodness, it's lovely to have you in the Burrow at last!"  
She then dragged him into the house for breakfast.


	4. Diaphragm Alley

**Chapter Four: Diaphragm Alley**

Over a meal of toast and pickle preserve (which Harry initially thought to be magic, due to its seemingly never-ending quantities, though after a few minutes he realised Mrs Weasley was eyeing his plate and replacing the contents every time he picked up a slice) the Weasley family questioned Harry about his holiday and oohed and aahed in exactly the right moments (though Fred messed it up a bit when he added a rather random 'Whoo-hoo! I like pandas. They're lovely with garlic sauce' when Harry described type of wig his uncle had ordered.)

During the conversation, the youngest sibling of the family, Gin'n'Tonic, ran into the kitchen, looking very annoyed.  
"Loooo-ooord Stumpy! That's the _last _time I take care of any Peruvian cane toads for you! Honestly, never again will I –"

She caught sight of Harry, and without changing her expression ran out of the room backwards and up the stairs again. Backwards.

"I think she seemed a little shocked for some reason," remarked Harry, clueless as always. He spooned more pickle preserve on his toast.  
Rhon wrinkled his nose. "Harry, why do you like that stuff so much?"  
Harry shrugged, and took a huge bite. "Well, ever since my pickle transformation during that Skeeditch match, I've had an odd liking for them."  
Rhon shuddered.  
"I'll give you Snitchy's number," Harry offered, "He, um, likes to pantomime vegetables."

Mrs Weasley dusted off a huge book she had taken from a shelf. "Now, Harry, Rhon, the garden needs de-gnoming. Let's see what Goldberry Heartlock has to say..."  
Rhon groaned. "No thanks mum, we'll be right," and he and Harry escaped into the garden.

Life, Harry soon discovered, was rather different at the Burrow. Not only was there a never-ending supply of food (which Harry found magical in itself, as the Weasleys appeared to be poor as church mice and never seemed to shop for groceries or own a vegetable garden of any sort), but there were all sorts of strange noises that seemed to issue from nowhere.

Rhon explained about the ghoul in the attic, but never seemed to be able to satisfactorily answer Harry's questions about the twanging and high pitched, warbling falsetto that streamed continually from Fred and Lord Stumpy's room.

Not long after he'd arrived at the Burrow, booklists were arriving.

Thrilled, Harry tore his open only to discover-

"Who's this Goldberry Heartlock fellow?" he asked.  
"Humph?" asked Rhon, looking up. "Oh, he's just some prat that mum likes. Looks like a tosser if you ask me. Why'd' you ask?"  
Harry pointed to the Defence Against the Dark Aardvark section of Rhon's booklist:

_Long Summer with the Loch Ness Monster by Goldberry Heartlock  
Flirting with Faeries by Goldberry Heartlock  
Hanging Out with Hydras by Goldberry Heartlock  
Wasting Time with Werewolves by Goldberry Heartlock  
Breaking Bread with Basilisks by Goldberry Heartlock  
Prancing Idiotically with Pixies by Goldberry Heartlock_

"I think someone likes Heartlock," said Rhon in a loud whisper. His mother looked up from the delicate china Nargle figurines she was polishing, and glared.

"For your information, Rhonda, Goldberry Heartlock is one of the most accomplished wizards of this age. Now put on a hat - beanie - cactus - I don't care, anything to hide that unruly hair of yours. We'll be shortly making a trip to Diaphragm Alley.

Rhon took a can of Campbell's tomato soup off the mantelpiece and offered it to Harry.  
"No thanks," the latter responded, wrinkling his nose, "I'm not an Andy Warhol fan."  
Ron shuddered. "Me neither, thank Cheese. But no, this is Fairy Dust. Just sprinkle some over your head, think happy thoughts, speak out the location you wish to be transported to...and voila! You're there. Oh, but you need to be within a three-inch radius of a fireplace. I don't know why, so don't bother asking. And I advise putting on a helmet."

Harry gulped. He took a pinch of Fairy Dust (which was colourful and seemed to smell suspiciously of 100s and 1000s) and followed Rhon's instructions, bar the helmet.  
He remembered the first time he saw himself with a moustache in the mirror of Etelpmoc Ycoidi, and said, with a little cough, "O-oh-bleak Al -"

He instantly regretted not putting on the helmet when his head collided with something hard. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at a teenager in a fast-food uniform.

"Welcome to Big Al's, may I take your order?"  
Harry scrambled to his feet and backed away. The next minute, Malfoil and his father entered the restaurant. He dived behind a handy hamburger float.

"A kiddie meal with extra fries, thanks" said Malfoil Snr.  
"Daaaaaad!" Malfoil whined. "I wanted a Big Mac!"  
"You can't get them here."  
"But it's my birthdaaaaaaaaaay!"  
"I already bribed the Slummin Skeeditch team to accept you, isn't that enough?"  
"Waaaaaaah!"


	5. Goldberry Heartlock

**Chapter Five: Goldberry Heartlock**

Harry couldn't stand it anymore, and ran out into a long, cobble stoned pathway of various shops. There was a sign saying, "Knocked-Up Alley. You are here" with a large red arrow pointing at the ground.  
"Well, that's handy," Harry said to no-one in particular. He turned and glanced back the way he'd come. All at once, the sun was blotted out by an enormous figure that smelt of freaky brownies and hemp.

"Whoa, Harry. Dude," said the enormous man. "This is a seriously vicious freakout, man."  
'Oh," said Harry. "Hi Hiphag."

The giant hippy looked about furtively. "What are you doing in Knocked-Up Alley, little dude?"  
"Breathing. You?"

Hiphag glanced around a bit more. "I'm buying some Au-Naturale slug repellent. We'd better get you out of here."  
He steered Harry past the sign and into Diaphragm Alley.

Mrs. Weasley spotted him and raced up. "Oh, Harry dear, what happened? Did you get lost on the Fairy-Dust network? I knew I should have let Rhon go first- he's the most disposable..."  
"I'm fine," Harry told her.  
"I found him in Knocked-Up Alley," Hiphag told her.  
"Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet," Fred and Lord Stumpy chimed.

Harry coughed. Hiphag's slug cologne was working _too _well for comfort. He tottered, feeling dizzy, when he suddenly noticed a beaver the size of Rhon standing nearby, flanked by two adults in dentist coats. He blinked, and the beaver turned into -  
"Hermitwo!" cried Harry.  
"Muggles!" cried Mr Weasley, with an equal amount of delighted surprised. He whipped out a small notebook and scrutinised Hermitwo's parents as he carefully jotted down their features. "Specimens no. 1032 and 1033...wearing odd, hard white robes. Overlarge incisors..."

Mrs Weasley, looking more than slightly embarrassed, turned to Harry, Rhon and Hermitwo. "Come along now, let's go to Scribble and Stains to get all your schoolbooks. Take your time, dearies, these are an important part of your magical education...I'll only be, let's say, four hours? There's a few interesting recipe books which take my fancy."  
"Mum, why are you carrying all those perfume bottles?"  
"Erm - no reason, no reason..."

The real motive for Mrs Weasley's eagerness was clear when they approached the bookshop and noticed a large sign saying, "_Goldberry Heartlock Will Sign Your Books for Perfume._" At the front of the store stood a tall wizard who looked very pleased with himself. He suddenly flashed a smile to the photographers surrounding him.

"Argh!" cried the trio, at the sudden unbearable bright light, and they all quickly put on sunglasses.  
The bright light grew more intense when Heartlock caught sight of Harry. They all put on a second pair.  
"Harold Potter! What a pleasure it is for me to see you at last!"  
"The bookshop owner muttered something in Heartlock's ear.  
"It's Harry - Harry, you say? Well, Harry, I like your hair extensions, so here's a free set of my books!"  
Something bulky and weighing two tonnes dropped into Harry's arms.

"They're not hair extensions," he explained.  
Heartlock beamed even brighter. Rhon, who was too slow in donning a third pair of sunglasses, was temporarily blinded and could only see flying purple spots for the rest of the day.  
"I like an honest lad! Here, have another set!"  
This time the package was dropped onto Harry's head. Narrowing his eyes, Harry rubbed at a bruise. He was not feeling overly fond of Heartlock.

"No need to thank me," the wizard chuckled. "I'm just that kinda guy. Btw, I'm lyke ur Defence teecha 4 this year!!1!!1!1"  
Even though Hermitwo had gone through a brief chatspeak phase in her first year, it was now physically painful for her to listen to it. She pouted.

Heartlock took one look at the crowd of people and the pairs of narrowed eyes and laughed.  
"Teehee, lovely Jackie Chan impersonations! But I must be going - things to do, eyebrows to pluck, perfume to sort out, you know! Cheerio, all!" He Disapparated in a puff of lilac.

Malfoil Snr walked up to the Weasleys, sneering at Mr Weasley's face.  
"Erm...why are you sneering at my face?" asked Mr Weasley.  
"I'm not sneering! It's... a smile." The sneer contorted until it turned into a painful grimace.  
"Well, Weasley, we haven't got along in the past, it's true -"  
"You always took the monkey bars when it was my turn!" said Mr Weasley indignantly.  
" - but I want to make amends. By giving all your children Big Al Kiddie Meals."  
"YAY!" chorused Fred and Lord Stumpy.

Ginny took one look at her kiddie meal and looked surprised. "I never knew Big Al gave away free mysterious black talking diaries..."

"Hush! I mean, indeed, it's a new fad these days. I'll just slip away now..."  
And Malfoil Snr sidestepped, crab-like, away.

"Off to Kings-R-Us Station!" said Mrs Weasley enthusiastically. "Fairy dust, everybody!"


	6. The Smashing Shrub

**Chapter Six: The Smashing Shrub**

Within a few moments, Harry, Rhon, Hermitwo, Fred, Lord Stumpy, Percy, Gin'n'Tonic and pretty much everyone else had fairy-dusted back to the Burrow, packed their trunks, and were motoring through London in Mr Weasley enchanted horse and buggy. To keep up the illusion of being a Muggle, Mr Weasley was singing 'An Amish Life for Me' at the top of his lungs.

"Oh I'm Amish, and I churn butter,  
And I raise barns, and love my brother,  
I don't like power, and I don't sho-o-ower,  
Oh yes, it's an Amish life for meeeeee-e-eeeee..."

Harry and Rhon tried to hide behind Harry's Hippofluffyduck, but to no avail.

Soon enough, they arrived at Kings 'R' Us station.

"Quickly now," said Mrs Weasley, bustling about and cleaning people's faces (most of them weren't her children, and looked highly uncomfortable). "Let's all go through the barrier and leave my twelve year old son and his best friend alone and unattended. Quickly!"

The others raced off through the barrier to Platform 9/and a lot of somethingths.

"That was weird," said Rhon.

As Harry and Rhon approached the barrier, Snitchy suddenly popped out of thin air beside them.  
"Mr Harry Potter Sir must not return to Hogwimps!" he said in a squeaky voice.  
"Mr Potato-head?" exclaimed Rhon. "I thought that was only a Muggle fairytale!"  
"No, Rhon, this is Snitchy, the vegetable pantomiming house elf. He is intent on restraining me from going back to school because he thinks I'll injure myself in Six Fish."  
"But you thrashed Finnigan the last three times!" said Rhon indignantly.

Snitchy glared. His voice turned more serious. "My purpose is deeper than that, Mr Rhonda Weasley. Little do you comprehend the subtle workings of fate. My actions save not only Mr Harry Potter's life, but the future of the wizarding world."

After this particularly moving speech, he quickly dashed over to the barrier and stuck on a Goldberry Heartlock poster. "Ha-ha, take that!" He Disapparated.

Rhon was horrified. "Harry, there's no way we can get past now!"  
Harry nodded fervently. "Even death is better than touching that! What are we meant to do??"  
From the ceiling, a light bulb was lowered on a string until it was directly above Rhon's head. "I have an idea!" he said.  
"Uh...what's with the light bulb?" said Harry.  
"Ignore it - this is a low budget film, remember? Harry, let's take the flying horse-and-buggy!"

After they had seated, flown up in the air and travelled for several hours, Harry suddenly remarked, "Wait...how will your parents get home? They don't have any Muggle money. And no offence, but I don't think your dad knows enough about the Muggle world to hail a taxi."

Rhon's eyes went wide. "Whoops..."

"Hey look, a cute little tree!"

WHOMP.

When they were conscious again, they woke up in Professor Snap's office. Harry screamed.

"Silence, fool!" Snap was sitting at his desk. "My cicada larvae need absolute quiet if they are to be of any use in my hair potions. Now, please explain, Potter, why you thought a flying horse-and-buggy would increase your reputation, curry the favour of the headmaster and possibly boost your Potions mark?"

"I didn't -"

"Silence! Rhonda Weasley, why did you leave your parents stranded in a destination where it is not only impossible to Disapparate without attracting the attention of Muggles, but also disappointingly lacking in vending machines which offer nutrition vital for survival in a Muggle world?"

"But the -"

"Silence! Why didn't either of your simply travel through the barrier? Too conventional, was it? I'll give you conventional!" And with that, Snap chucked a tomato soup can at their heads.

Rhon yelped.

"Silence!"

To their infinite relief, Professor Albie 'Dimples' Dumbledork suddenly entered the room.

"Really, Sneverus, why persist in asking questions if you don't allow them to speak? And there really is no need to resort to violence. I think a few days of eating their own cooking can teach them a good enough lesson. Oh, and a couple of detentions won't go amiss either. Why on earth are you giving me that Jackie Chan impression, Rhon? Anyway, I better go back to the feast."

Snap started to laugh evilly. He waved his wand, and a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter appeared on his desk.

"You may return to your dorms - after you finish eating." Still cackling to himself, he ran out of his office.

Rhon looked at the sandwich ingredients, horrified. "No! I'm going to poison myself, I know it!"  
Harry swallowed. "Come on, Rhon." He bravely picked up a butter knife. "I mean, our sandwiches can't be that bad, right?"

Two hours of indigestion later, Harry and Rhon finally reached the dorm. Hermitwo was looking more peeved than a beaver who had encountered a bug while gnawing at a log.

This impression was not helped by the fact that her front teeth were about two inches long and she was gnawing on a salami stick.

"I heard everything. What on earth were you thinking, flying a horse and buggy to school?"  
"Well," said Rhon frankly, "I was thinking 'Hey, I'm flying a horse and buggy to school.'"  
"I suppose you think you're really funny and clever, then." Hermitwo snapped.  
"Well, yeah, actually."  
"Un-bel-IEVE-able," she snapped, in a very quatrosyllabic form. "You could have been expelled."  
"We could have," Harry admitted. "But we weren't."

Suddenly, a small boy with a camera appeared at Harry's elbow. "ZOMG HI HARRY!! I'M COLON CREEPY AND I AM SO SUPER DUPER ULTIMATE AMAZING WOW HAPPY BUBBLEGUM TEEN SUPER FORCE POWER YEAH EXCITED TO SEE YOU!! CAN I TAKE YOUR PHOTO??"

He took Harry's photo.

"ISN'T THIS SO ULTIMATELY YAY KEWL WICKED AWESOME??"

He seemed to only be able to speak in capital letters and numerous punctuation marks.

"Hey kid," said Harry. "You seem to only be able to speak in capital letters and numerous punctuation marks."

"YOU ARE MY FAVOURITE HEROINE!!" The little boy screamed, and ran about the room waving his arms in the air before collapsing in a hyperventilating pile on the shag carpet in front of the fire.

"Naw," said Rhon sweetly. "Someone's going to sleep well tonight."


	7. The Howler

**Chapter Seven: The Howler**

Unfortunately, the next day proved to be less adventure filled. As the three friends were chowing down on their breakfast, a bundle of feathers and beetroot rained down on them when Rhon's Hippofluffyduck, Feral, landed on the table.

"Cripes," said Harry. "These names just get cornier and cornier."  
"Oh no," moaned Rhon. "I've got... I've got... I've got..."  
"WHAT?!" screamed Hermitwo, who was useless at handling tension.  
"A HOWLER!"  
"Guh?" asked Harry.  
"It's a letter that screams at you and tells you off," Rhon explained. "Mum sent it. She must be so angry..."  
"Buh," said Harry.  
"Good point, Harry," Hermitwo nodded. "Rhon should open it before it explodes."

Rhon gingerly slid his finger under the seal, and then...

"RHONDA PRUDENCE ETHEL WEALSEY! I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO MORTIFIED IN MY WHOLE LIFE!"

Mrs Weasley's voice, magnified three hundredfold, thundered about the room like – well, like thunder. Rhon seemed to shrink as the rant continued.

"YOUR FATHER HAD TO NAB A SCOOTER FROM A PASSING FIVE-YEAR-OLD, THEN ENCHANT IT TO TAKE US BACK HOME! HAVE YOU ANY IDEA HOW DEMEANING IT IS FOR TWO GROWN ADULTS TO FLY ON A BARBIE SCOOTER OVER LONDON?"

Rhon dropped his head into his cereal in utter embarrassment, which made it look like his Weetbix was on fire.

"NOT TO MENTION THE MASSIVE FINE WE NEED TO PAY UP, SO YOU CAN FORGET ABOUT THAT CHUDLEY CANON LEGO SET YOU WANTED. IF YOU PUT A SINGLE NOSE HAIR OUT OF LINE WE'LL LOCK YOU UP WITH THE GHOUL IN THE ATTIC."

The red envelope blew a raspberry at Rhon and disappeared. There was a long, ringing silence in the Great Hall.

"Awk – ward!" Heartlock sang out from the teachers' table.

As Harry, Rhon and Hermitwo left the castle for their first Herbology lesson of the term, the former two noticed, with a twinge of guilt, the tiny tree that had attacked them the night before, covered in Band-Aids. They joined the class outside the greenhouses.

After five minutes or so, Professor Sproutalot ambled up. "Sorry about the wait, I was just giving the Smashing Shrub a few more lozenges. It does seem to like them so. Now, everyone grab a snorkel!"

Once everyone had put one on, she continued, "Now, students – we'll be harvesting Foetidus flowers today. Now, who knows what we commonly use Foetidus flowers for?"

Hermitwo's hand went up faster than a chipmunk high on caffeine.

"They are bery effective in helbing to reverse the effects of the Styrofoam curse," she said in a prim nasal voice through her snorkel.

"Very good! Five points to Grandmador. And why is it dangerous?"

"The fragrant is boisonous to anyone who sniffs it."

"Excellent! Quite superb! No points to Grandmador." (Hermitwo shot her a suspicious look.) "Now, even though these flowers are still young, if you inhale their perfume you will develop rashes and a liking for tofu substitutes." Everyone hastened to readjust their snorkels to fit better. "So heed my warning."

Professor Sproutalot approached some innocent looking pink flowers in a bush lining the Hogwimps veggie patch. She poked one. It immediately exuded a green gas which looked toxic. She picked it off the shrub and placed it into a basket. Harry turned to look at Rhon, who shrugged, and they both joined the rest of the class to pick the rest of the flowers.

Unfortunately, the following Transfiguration lesson involved much harder work than flower-picking. Professor McGallstone had given them a button, and had nonchalantly asked them to Transfigure it into something 'with a lot of legs.' Rhon steadfastly refused to do so, and explained that his wand had been broken during its encounter with the Smashing Shrub.

"Are you sure it's not just because you're concealing the fact that you have severe arachnophobia?" asked Hermitwo.

"Positive," said Rhon firmly.

"What class do we have this afternoon?" asked Harry  
"Defence Against the Dark Aardvark," replied Hermitwo.  
Rhon grabbed her timetable. "Erm…why have you labeled this Property of Hermitwo Heartlock?"

Hermitwo, however, was humming 'Singing in the Rain' and had appeared not to hear him.

As they entered the DADA classroom, Heartlock beamed from his desk. "Come in, come in, students! Should I increase the intensity of the jasmine air freshener? No? Sit down, then, and see the nice little quiz I made for you all." He beamed with the radiance of a thousand suns. "What are you all waiting for? Start the test! I want to see if you've loved my books as much as I love myself."

"Well," said Harry to himself, "Here goes." Fearing the worst, he let his eyes fall to the sheet of paper at his desk.

1) Who was born in a small cottage in Kent, and is now a world famous author?

2) Whose eyes are like limpid pools of azure, beckoning to you?

3) If you had to choose between winning the lottery and spending an evening with Goldberry Heartlock, which would you choose?

4) Whose father disapproved of my alternative lifestyle but I SHOWED HIM, DIDN'T I?

The test went on like that for forty-three double sided A4 sheets of parchment. Soon, Harry was seeing spots and the only words he could say were Goldberry, Heartlock and Pidgeon.

Heartlock tinkled a little silver bell near the end of the lesson, and collected up the papers.

There were the sounds of swooning coming from a number of students, not all of them girls.

Harry noticed Rhon appear to swoon, but then realised that his delirium might actually be from writing 'Goldberry Heartlock' several thousand times.

"Very good, children, very good indeed," Heartlock was saying. "Mr Rhonda Weasley, I do not accept 'ya mum' as a valid answer, so I'll only give you a 'B'... very good, Miss Spaynger! You answered every question right, even the bonus question 'who did Witch Weekly describe in the words 'flaming, fabulous and so deep in the closet he was coughing up mothballs'!"

Hermitwo smiled and fluttered her eyelids at him, before ducking as several students lobbed their very heavy copies of 'Incubating with an Incubus' at her.


	8. The Return of Trevor

**Chapter Eight: The Return of Trevor**

The next day, Harry woke up to see Oliver Schwoodde creep into his dorm wearing a large purple wig.  
"Forget about it, Schwoodde," he said blearily. "I'm already awake."  
Schwoodde stopped in his tracks, intensely disappointed. "Well, get ready for Skeeditch practice. Time to get the hoovers hummin'!"

As Harry clambered out of the portrait hole, he was greeted by a large flash. Colon Creepy pulled a snapshot out of his camera.  
"Hee hee," he cackled. "Harry Potter On His Way to Practice. EBay's going to pay big money for this." He raised his voice and increased its pitch twenty semitones. "HARRY! ZOMG ARE YOU LIKE GOING TO SKEEDITCH?"  
Harry bared his teeth and growled. Colon snapped another photo.  
"Harry Potter Doing His Famous Yogi Bear Impersonation – I'll be surprised if this doesn't fetch at least two grand."  
"Shoo!" said Harry, pulling out a Giant Novelty Flyswatter. Colon made a quick escape through a handy plot hole.

Five minutes later, the Grandmador Skeeditch team had assembled on the Flying Pitch. Everyone was yawning and trying not to stare at Lord Stumpy's fuzzy bunny slippers. Schwoodde, however, was wide awake and very, very, hyper. "Welcome back! Everybody grab your mantises, and LET'S GO TEAM!"

He was about to jump on his hoover and go whizzing up into the morning blue when Harry tugged on his sleeve. "Erm, Oliver, there are people coming towards us. They don't look too happy, either. You don't owe anyone money, do you?"  
"Don't be ridiculous," Schwoodde snarled. "What is the Slummin team doing here?"  
Pint, the Slummin Skeeditch Captain, brandished a note signed with a signature adorned in hearts.  
"Under the authority of Professor Snap, we bags the pitch!" The Slummin stuck out their tongues at the Grandmadors.  
"NOSE GAME!" shrieked Schwoodde, but, alas, he was too late.  
"Foiled again," said Pint, grinning evilly. "Thankyou, Darko," he said to a particularly self-satisfied looking boy with his finger placed firmly on his snout.

The Grandmador team suddenly gasped at the cleaning utilities the Slummins were clutching.  
"It can't be…" muttered Schwoodde.  
"But it's…" muttered Fred.  
"SO SHINY!" cried Lord Stumpy, unable to contain himself.  
"Nice, aren't they?" said Pint, stepping back to admire his vacuum cleaner. "Dust Busters 3000. Very latest model. Malfoil's father was kind enough to purchase them for the team. Way better than the Weasleys' Nineties Nilfisks…"  
Lord Stumpy's lip wobbled.  
"You leave Stumpy-mumpy alone!" cried Rhon out of nowhere, cannon-balling into Pint.  
Hermitwo appeared likewise from some hidden location and started gnawing on Malfoil's leg.  
"GNAAAARGH!" he yelled. "Get this beaver off me!"  
Rhon stopped trying to rip off Pint's elbow and pointed his wand at Malfoil. "You'll pay for that one!"  
The wand backfired, and Rhon was flung back ten feet. He jumped back to his feet again, looking no less furious, and opened his mouth to let out a stream of epithets.  
Instead, he burped and a few feathers drifted out of his mouth onto the ground.  
"Eeeeewwww," said everyone in unison.  
He burped again, and Trevor the chicken flew out, squawking its head off and looking highly disgruntled.

"Trevor!" cried Neville Shortrear, who had also appeared out of nowhere.  
"Come on," said Harry, attempting to drag both Rhon and Hermitwo off the Slummins, "Let's go to – Rhon, stop poking their eyes out! – to Hiphag's hut. Hermitwo! Please!"

They knocked on Hiphag's door and were admitted inside. Hiphag offered them some Choctarine Rock Sponge, and went back to some bids he was placing on eBay.  
"It was appalling," said Harry, shaking his head as he related the morning's events. Malfoil called Hermitwo the most awful name and – excuse me but what are you bidding on?"  
"Er, nothing," said Hiphag, trying to conceal a photo on the screen on his computer which depicted Harry sniffing a bowl of Jell-O suspiciously.  
"Are you buying Colon Creepy's photos?"  
Hiphag threw his arms in the air, and accidentally smashed them through the ceiling. "Alright, I admit it! But Harry, they're the latest craze! I heard a rumour that the King of Albania is ordering three hundred!"  
Harry glared. "And to think of all the times I had to forcibly restrain myself from insulting your whiskers to spare your feelings," he said. "I'm ashamed of you. But lovely cake, by the way," he added brightly, after taking a ferocious bite from the Choctarine Rock Sponge.

Professor McGallstone cornered Harry and Rhon as they entered the castle.  
"Don't think we've overlooked your detentions, Potter and Weasley," she said. "Weasely – go help Lichen and Mrs Bacon in the Trophy Room. As for you, Potter – Heartlock especially requested you."  
"That sounds so dodge!" said Harry. He shuddered.  
Professor McGallstone shuddered as well. "Heck, you're right. Sorry about that. One always has to be careful about what they say and what they mean these days – well, off you trundle!"  
She ambled away whistling merrily.

Harry trudged up to Heartlock's office on the third floor. He nearly coughed up his lungs when he entered.  
The stone walls were painted a lurid lilac colour, where they weren't plastered over with huge moving posters of Heartlock. Large fluffy cushions were scattered around the room. A large fluffy pink telephone sat ubiquitously in the corner, surrounded by several stuffed mooses.  
All in all, it looked more like a pathetic teenage witch's room than the office of a mature adult male.  
Heartlock lay prostrate on the floor, gazing raptly at a photo of a red-faced Harry singing something at the top of his voice while wearing a very fetching lampshade on his head.  
"Not you too!" Harry moaned.  
"Oh, Harry," said Heartlock, stuffing the photo under a cushion and blushing roguishly. "Didn't you know that the King of Albania just bought -"  
"What about my detention?" asked Harry, with more than a little dread.  
"Oh, yes," Heartlock faltered, then grinned again. "Because I'm so incredibly sexy, I need you to help me autograph photos and send them to all my adoring fans." and he flicked his incredibly sexy fringe out of his incredibly sexy eyes.  
"Wow," said one of his posters. "You're incredibly sexy."

After nearly three hours of signing winking photos of Heartlock, and enduring his non-stop diatribe of 'fame is as fame does', 'fame comes to those who ask for it', 'the famous shall inherit the earth', 'I have a famous bunch of coconuts, diddily dee dee' and other pathetic non-sequiturs, Harry felt ready to either A) fall asleep at the next mention of fame, or B) punch Heartlock very, very hard, in the face.  
Suddenly, he heard an unearthly voice, which seemed to emanate from all about him...  
"Kill, maim, destroy, rip, tear, gore, maim, kill, destroy, beat up a bit..."  
Harry jumped and glanced about himself. "Professor?"  
"Fame is a privilege Harry, not a right- eh?"  
"Professor, did you hear that?" Harry asked.  
"Hear what?"  
"That voice!"  
Heartlock glanced around. "Dear me, it's nine o'clock! You should be in bed! Well, time flies when you're having fun, eh?" But when he actually tore his eyes away from the grinning posters, he saw that Harry's chair was empty.


	9. The Deathday Party

**Chapter Nine: The Deathday Party**

The next day at breakfast, Harry's Hippofluffyduck brought him a particularly dismal looking invitation. The envelope was pure black, with a black seal. The letter inside was also black, adorned with a strip of black ribbon and written on with black ink. The overall effect was particularly gloomy and impressive.

"What sort of _twit_ designed this invitation card?" said Harry, holding the letter up to the light in an attempt to make out the writing.

'Practically Pancreas-less' Padraic would be honoured if Harry Potter and his two friends would join him on Hallowe'en in an evening of mourning and feeling generally miserable about his 150th Deathday.  
(Should Mr Potter be feeling particularly inclined, it would be wonderful if he could drop a few words of favour on my part to the president of the 'I.S.P.A.M.I.O.S, or the 'I Still Possess All My Internal Organs Society.' Not that it's all that it's cracked up to be, of course, but they play bingo every second Tuesday and I'm still inclined to a game or two.)

"Wow," said Hermitwo, leaning over to read the note as well, "I've never even heard of 'Practically Pancreas-less' Padraic. That's another character we missed in the first book."  
Rhon rolled his eyes. "You try to remember to put everything in if you're so clever!"

On Hallowe'en the next night, Harry, Rhon and Hermitwo strolled down into the dungeons.  
"I can't believe I'm skipping Trick or Treating for this," muttered Rhon mutinously.  
Hermitwo pointed excitedly at Snap's door as they passed it. "Hey, it's still not too late!"  
She Transfigured the three of them into a Comb, a Bath sponge, and a cake of Soap.  
They stood outside the door and chorused in unison, "TRICK OR TREAT!"  
Snap inched the door open, and looked out suspiciously. Upon seeing their costumes, his lip wobbled.  
"NOOOOOOOO! Take it, take it all, just leave me alooooooone!" he screamed. He tossed a few packets of liver treats at them before slamming the door.  
Harry stared at the packages in his arms. "O…kay…"  
"Not exactly what I was expecting," admitted Rhon, "but then again, knowing Snap, I should've known."

After walking for several more hours, they finally found the location of the Deathday Party. 'Practically Pancreas-less' Padraic greeted them at the door.  
"Welcome, as yet un-departed friends!" he said. "You're late. Hope you enjoy the evening, even though there's only ten minutes left and most of the food is gone."  
Peeves the poltergeist floated over. "Help yourself to some mossy comestibles," he said sweetly, offering bowl of small moving objects covered in something green and fluffy. Harry pulled a face. "I'm good, thanks."  
"TOUGH COOKIES!" Peeves grabbed a handful and threw it straight into Harry's face.  
Harry tried in vain to rub the stuff off his glasses. "Why do people always seem to have something against me?" he grumbled.

Hermitwo suddenly looked horrified.  
"What?" asked Rhon, touching his freckles self-consciously.  
"Not you – behind you! Whiny Wendy!"  
An extremely glum looking ghost floated over.  
"Hello," she said dully. "Oh, sorry for forgetting, nobody likes me, so I'll just be off now."  
"Nice – nice balaclava!" called Hermitwo desperately, trying to be conversational.  
"Isn't it just?" said Whiny Wendy. "Lovely shade of black."  
"Erm…liver treat?" Harry offered, holding up a packet.  
"No thanks," sniffed Whiny Wendy. "I wouldn't mention them to Padraic, by the way. He's awfully sensitive about organs of any sort…ooh, the I.S.P.A.M.I.O.S has arrived!"

A group of perfectly ordinary-looking ghosts, who didn't do anything to merit joining the society except for being normal and very, very British, ambled into the room.  
"Oh, I say!" said one of them wearing a large feathered top hat. "What a poor turnout!"  
His friend patted him on the shoulder. "There there, old chap, I'll make us a spot of tea and it'll be all better."  
"I do declare that we can't drink tea. I've been dead nearly a century," one remarked.  
"Pish tush! We're more alive than those young'uns over there, at any rate," added another. He was pointing at Harry, Rhon and Hermitwo, who seemed to have temporarily turned into fish. (That is, if the fish were unmoving with their mouths wide open. Actually, upon further reflection, fish aren't normally like that. Ah well.)  
"Hullo, old bean!" said the one wearing a top hat to Padraic. "Pity about that pancreas of yours. We play bingo twice a week now."  
Padraic glared at Harry, and while the President of the society wasn't looking, made a very obvious throat-cutting action.  
Harry cleared his throat. "Er…you know, 'Practically Pancreas-less' Padraic is very…very…"  
"Very what?" inquired the President, raising a ghostly eyebrow.  
Hermitwo looked at her watch. "Harry, Rhon, we've got to go, otherwise we'll miss a plot point!"

They ran out of the dungeon, and it was when they walking along the corridor when Harry heard the voice again.  
"Rip…tear….kill…smash…bonk…thwack…de-pancreas…"  
"What??" Harry said out loud.  
His companions looked at him as though a couple of zucchinis had sprouted out from both of his ears.  
The voice came again.  
"Sooo hungry…for soooo long…"  
Harry trembled.  
"Sooo hungry…ooh, a liver treat!"  
Harry jumped, and turned to Rhon, who was munching on something. "Oi! Do you mind?!"

They turned a corner, and Hermitwo gasped.  
"Stop it!" said Rhon, "I know they look funny, but that's no reason to –"  
"Oh, get over your freckles! I'm talking about Mrs Bacon!"  
Hermitwo pointed a trembling finger towards the wall. There was Lichen's pet pig, but something was different…it was made out of…  
"Styrofoam," whispered Hermitwo in horror. "The legendary Styrofoam curse!"  
Behind it, on the wall, written it what looked suspiciously like peanut butter, were the words:

THE KIND OF SECRET ROOM THAT NO ONE KNOWS ABOUT HAS BEEN OPENED. THE STYROFOAM MONSTER HAS BEEN RELEASED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE. OH, AND THAT INCLUDES BEAVERS. WHOOP-DE-DOO-DAH.

There was a mesmerised silence.

"Dernit!" said Hermitwo.


	10. The Four Founders and Skinky

**Chapter Ten: The Four Founders (and Skinky)**

Over the next few days, the school was buzzing with the news. Gin'n'Tonic looked particularly upset – according to Rhon, she had a great liking of pork chops. Lichen, Hogwimps' caretaker, seemed more annoyed than usual, and put three girls on detention for 'being happy and blissfully unaware of the newly-formed angst in my life created by the absence of a much-loved pig.'

It was finally in A History of Magic class when Hermitwo put up her hand to seek the truth of the matter.  
"Sir," Hermitwo said.  
The professor, a ghost who had choked on a marmalade tart one morning and then for some reason didn't seem to realise he was dead, even though that seems to go completely against everything revealed about death in book five- but enough about that- didn't seem to notice her.  
"Sir!"  
Hermitwo said again, her voice rising about three octaves, to a pitch where it was only audible to dogs, and very small hamsters. "Sir! Professor Trashcan!"  
"Eh?" said the ghost, looking around and displaying a translucent throat full of ghostly marmalade tart. "Who said that?"  
"Who said what?" Malfoil chirruped from the back of the room.  
Professor Trashcan lobbed a dust board eraser at him.  
"Me, sir," Hermitwo said, her voice sinking back into an audible range. "I was wondering about the Styrofoam beast and where it came from?"  
"Oh," said Professor Trashcan. "Are you sure you don't want to hear about goblins?"  
"Very sure, sir."  
"Fine. I'm sick of talking about them anyway, it doesn't seem to have any impact on any of my students... hmmm, the Styrofoam beast, you say?" And he sat down and began a long and rambling lecture.

"Long ago, Hogwimps was founded by four powerful witches and wizards, plus one small, disgruntled skink. The founders gave their names to each of the houses, except skinky, who was the general contractor and he won the lottery and went off to found Chucky Cheese. The founders were Geoffrey Grandmador, Reba Ravenscoleslaw, Sally Snuffeluff and Salamander Slummin-Chumleigh- erm, he changed his name to sound more impressive," he added as a number of students snorted in derision. "Anyway, each believed that the school should take on students of a certain caliber- Grandmador wanted brave children who didn't mind having a life expectancy of a negative number, Ravenscoleslaw wanted students with an IQ that made Harvard Graduates look like partially retarded badgers, Snuffeluff wanted everybody and Slummin- well, he wanted the 'pure bloods'. Disappointed that he didn't get what he wanted, he is rumoured to have made a secret room entirely out of packaging peanuts, and then he left the school forever.

"About fifty years ago, however, the secret room was opened and some monster- said to be made of Styrofoam- was released. One of the students DIED. It is believed that only an heir of Slummin can open the room and release the tide of non-biodegradable death upon the school, and rid the school of people not thought to be 'pure blood'."

Professor Trashcan gazed upon the class, who were all staring at him open-mouthed.  
"ATTENTION!" he exclaimed with childish glee. "MUMMY, THEY'RE GIVING ME ATTENTION!"

Rhon was still sniggering at the name of Slummin's founder as the three of them left the classroom. Hermitwo was rolling her eyes. Harry, on the other hand, was reflecting his sorting. The only reason he had managed to get into Grandmador was by convincing the Great Sorting Cane that he disliked Oreos. Now that he knew what the houses truly stood for, it felt like his identity was falling about his ears like custard past the use-by-date.  
"I doubt I'm a genuine Grandmador at heart," he thought to himself, guiltily nibbling at an Oreo.

They passed the girls' bathroom, and stopped. A high wailing could be heard from within.  
"Whiny Wendy?" asked Harry.  
Hermitwo shook her head. "It can't be…even she isn't able to scream as high as that…"  
They pushed open the door and saw Percy serenading himself in front of the mirror.

"Ahhh, my beauty past compare!  
These jewels bright I wear!  
Was I ever Margarita?  
Is it I?  
Come reply! Mirror, mirror  
Tell me truly!"

Harry and Rhon watched him with a sort of horrified fascination. It was only after ten minutes that Hermitwo was able to drag them away.

When they were back in the Common Room, they fell back to the topic of Salamander's Secret Room.  
"You know, I reckon Malfoil has an easy chance of being Slummin's heir," said Rhon. He counted off points on his fingers. "They both have stupid names, they both sound egotistical, and they both turn sour when things don't go their own way."  
"Hmm…true," mused Hermitwo. "We could disguise ourselves and invade the Slummin Common Room to question him…but that would break about a zillion school rules and also be incredibly difficult.  
She paused, as though expecting her companions to cry out, "Surely not!" or "But of course, you're brainy and brilliant enough for it to work!"  
When they didn't, she continued rather sullenly, "We need to use a Monojuice Potion."  
"Right-o," said Harry.


	11. The Naughty Bowling Ball

**Chapter Eleven: The Naughty Bowling Ball**

Heartlock: Well, this story has been going on for long enough without mentioning me…  
Catherine: GO AWAY! You'll be in the next chapter.  
Heartlock: (miffed) But I want to be in this chapter!  
Hannah: You get a small part at the end. I think.  
Heartlock: Only a small part? (outraged) Warner Brothers will hear about this!  
Both authors take out Giant Novelty Flyswatters.  
Heartlock: runs

Harry woke early on the day of the first Skeeditch match. Grandmador was versing Slummin (obviously) and he was praying that he wouldn't turn into a pickle today.  
Almost as an afterthought, he hoped that he would beat Malfoil.

Down at the Skeeditch Pitch, Schwoodde was trying to mollify his distressed team members.  
"Look," he said, "They may have better vacuum cleaners. They may have better players. They may have better haircuts. But we've got…we've got…"  
He looked slightly put-off by the six large puppy-like pairs of eyes fixed upon his own.  
"We've definitely got the better mantises." He patted a couple of insect legs sticking out of his left ear. "Boris will see us all through, have no doubt about that. On your Nilfisks, everyone!"

As soon as the balls were released, one of the bowling balls headed towards Harry at full speed. Lord Stumpy managed to knock it towards Malfoil. The bowling ball reversed in mid-air and made its way back to Harry.  
Fred zoomed by and knocked it towards Pint. The bowling ball curved right around Pint's head and whooshed again towards its original target. In desperation, Lord Stumpy whacked it towards Schwoodde. The bowling ball hovered near him, as if in contemplation, but after awhile reverted back to chase Harry, who started to bawl.

Madam Hooch called a time out. She gestured to have the naughty bowling ball brought to her, and she smacked it sharply three times with a steel ruler.  
"Bad, bad bowling ball," she disciplined. "Not good. Need to hit everyone, not just Harry."  
The bowling ball whimpered.  
"I think it's learnt its lesson," she said triumphantly. The game was continued.

With a sudden shock, Harry noticed the Snitch behind Malfoil's left elbow. Luckily, he happened to be only a foot behind Malfoil, so he grabbed it.

WHAM.

The impact of the bowling ball caused Harry to slide off his Nilfisk and land on the ground forty feet below with a loud thump. He felt woozy, and his funny bone hurt terribly.  
The rest of the Skeeditch team and a large crowd of people ran up to him. "Need…tranquilizers," he gasped.  
"Move aside everybody!" said a loud voice. "Sixty-Five Time Winner of Witch Weekly's Most Radiant Molars Award coming through!"  
Harry groaned. "Oliver!" he called out. "Take me to the hospital wing! Now!"  
But Schwoodde was too busy toasting champagne to everyone about Grandmador team's win to notice.  
Heartlock poked Harry's funny bone and giggled. "Rofl, you've broken your funny bone! Sorry, I just find that quite amusing."  
Harry bared his teeth.  
"Keep calm, Harry," soothed Heartlock. "I won't be a minute with your elbow. You should look into my eyes while I heal it. I've been complimented countless times on their soothing effect."  
Before Harry knew quite what was happening, the entire middle section of his arm became numb. He looked at it in disbelief.  
Heartlock hadn't mended Harry's funny bone. He had removed it.  
Harry poked the place it used to be. It wobbled.  
"WHY DOES MY ARM RESEMBLE A BANANA BUS?!" he bellowed.

"In Soviet Russia, Banana Bus resembles ARM!" screamed some random child, and then was silenced by a horde of angry 'Shhhh!'s.

That evening in the hospital wing, Harry was grumbling to himself about his missing funny bone when Snitchy suddenly appeared.  
"Wow," said Harry, "You just appeared."  
Snitchy looked from side to side, and then bashed himself over the head with a handy candelabrum. "Bad Snitchy!" he said. "Bad Snitchy, letting the naughty bowling ball do all the work instead of exterminating Mr Harry Potter sir personally!"  
"Erm…" said Harry.  
"ZOMG!" cried Professor McGallstone, rushing into the room. "I've just found Colon Creepy completely Styrofoamed!"  
"And you're telling me because…?" prompted Harry.  
Professor McGallstone blush. "I do tend to turn up at odd moments, don't I? Sorry. Have a cookie."

And on that enigmatic note she scuttled out again.

Harry glared at something under the bed.


	12. The Pink Handkerchief Club

**Chapter Twelve: The Pink Handkerchief Club**

The next day dawned bright and early, that is if 'bright' was taken by English standards and about equivalent to half a ray of sunlight attempting to struggle through a huge chunk of cloud, and if early was taken by Hogwimps standards and was considered to be, 'any time before Schwoodde starts his freaky waking up rituals.'

Harry rubbed his eyes blearily. "Wow, it's so bright and early."

As he walked into breakfast with Rhon, Hermitwo ran towards them excitedly. "OMIGOSH MY FIANC - I MEAN PROFESSOR HEARTLOCK - IS STARTING A PINK HANDKERCHIEF CLUB!! CAN WE GO CAN WE GO CAN WE GO??"  
Rhon considered this for awhile, rubbing his invisible goatee, and said, "Hmmm...we need to discuss this with your mother." He turned to Harry. "Mr Potter, what do you think?"  
Harry processed the thought with amazing rapidity with his high capacity of intelligence, and immediately forgot it a millisecond later. "Pass the anchovies?" he queried.

"Shut up," said Rhon. "And no, Hermitwo, we will not be going to the pink handkerchief club."  
But he was wrong.

That evening, Rhon and Harry were looking very sulky in the front row of Heartlock's pink handkerchief club. Heartlock was standing on a raised dais, looking like a flamboyant strawberry cream puff. Snap was standing next to him, to everyone's evident surprise. Snap looked like a bat.

"I always knew there was something going on between them," Seamus Finneganbeginnagan said to Harry out of the corner of his mouth. Snap death-glared them both.  
"Well!" said Heartlock cheerily. "I see we have a large turn out at this first meeting of the Pink Handkerchief Duelling Club!"  
There was a general murmur of dissent.

"We will be learning the secret art of Wizard Duelling," Heartlock continued. "Snap here will be my assistant, to help demonstrate various moves-"  
Someone in the crowd yelled out "THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!"  
Snap jinxed them.

"Hopefully," said Heartlock, looking a little nonplussed, "This should help you defend yourself against Styrofoam monsters and such." He turned to Snap. "Ready? En guarde!"  
Snap, who was reclining languidly against the rear wall, gave Heartlock a very withering look, but otherwise made no move to take on the elaborate stance that Heartlock had assumed.

"I said en guarde!" Heartlock said merrily.  
"Shut up," replied Snap.  
"Well, if you're not going to fight back, then-"  
"Explodeymodey Bazzing," Snap said in a bored tone, and Heartlock flew backwards in a shower of molten marshmallow. Hermitwo shrieked.  
He lay at the other end of the dais, dazed. Snap came up and kicked him until he got up.  
"Well," said Heartlock. "Of course, I let you disarm me."  
Snap rolled his eyes.  
"Well," Heartlock continued. "I've bruised my spine in that rather enthusiastic duel…"  
There was silence as everyone's eyes turned to Snap, who looked like the ultimate in un-enthusiastic. If enthusiasm had entered the room at that point, it would have made a very sulky exit.  
"So, why don't we get some students up here?" Heartlock beamed at Harry, who tried to remember a spell for disappearing into the ground, without success. He then contemplated what life would be like as a pickle. Since the existence of this particularly knobbly vegetable seemed more appealing to what Snap had in store for him, he turned to Rhon and made severe miming gestures that he should use his gherkin spell on him once again.

Rhon shook his head, and pointed to Hermitwo, whom he had in a headlock because she was struggling to sample some of the pink handkerchiefs on display. "Need - to - preserve - what - sanity - she - has - left..."

Harry swallowed and walked up to Snap, who gave him an evil look. "Stand up straight, Potter. Pick that bean off your left ear. Just kidding. THINK FAST!!"  
And with that he pulled an enormous viper from his pocket and chucked it straight at Harry's face.  
"NEEP!" said Harry. His life flashed before him. In one of the moving images he spotted a piece of cheddar. "ZOMG CHEESE!" he yelled.  
The snake froze in mid-air, suspended three feet above the ground. "Cheese? I like cheese."  
"Wait," said Harry, "You can talk?"  
"What does it look like I'm doing?" snapped the snake angrily. "Anyway, Camembert is lovely, but blue vein slightly strong for my taste, doesn't go well with digesting rodents and small children, you see."

Seamus Finneganbeginnagan stared and screamed, "ZOMGHARRYPOTTERISTALKINGTOASNAKEABOUTCHEESE!"  
"Waiiiiit...how do you know?" said Rhon suspiciously.  
Everyone shot Harry horrified looks and vacated the room, including Hermitwo. She stopped to steal some handkerchiefs first, though.  
"All right Potter," spat Snap. "Off to the headmaster's office for you."

He marched Harry down to an old statue of a man with a surprised expression and a finger up his nose. "House-Elf Huckleberry," said Snap loudly. The statue leapt out of the way, revealing a staircase. Snap thrust Harry onto the staircase, and the statue moved back into place. The only way to go was up.

Harry reached Dumbledork's office and went inside. It was filled with books. Books on tables, books on chairs, books on the floor, even some books balanced haphazardly on a large chandelier. In the corner, surrounded, and to some extent covered in books, was a bird cage containing one very small and grumpy looking iguana with a single feather glued to its head. It croaked at Harry, and then spontaneously combusted. "Gnah!" cried Harry.  
He backed away into a pile of books, from which fell a battered old cane. Harry recognised it immediately. "The… the… the sorting cane!"  
"That's right, beeyatch," said the cane. "And I've been thinking it over. You DO like Oreos!"  
"I know, I know," Harry cried. "I can't lie. I LOVE Oreos. I love them SO MUCH. I just don't want to be in Slummin!"  
"Tough cookies!" the cane screamed triumphantly. "Or should I say- TOUGH OREOS!"  
Weeping from fear and red and raw from allergic reactions to bad puns, Harry stumbled away and fell into another pile of books.  
"Harry?" asked Dumbledork, who had been sitting at the desk (which was covered in books) the whole time, pouring tea and enjoying the show. "What do you want?"  
Harry straightened up and brushed himself off. "Um… I was sent here because I talked to a snake, sir."  
"Oh." Said Dumbledork. "Would you like some candy?"  
"Erm…no thanks. Sorry about your iguana," said Harry.  
"What iguana?" Dumbledork asked. "Oh, Spewnz? No, no, he's a phoenix."  
"No," said Harry. "He's an iguana."  
"Au contraire," Dumbledork said. "He's a phoenix. And if you watch carefully, he'll come back to life."  
Harry moved over to the bird cage and peered into the ashes of the old iguana. "I don't see anything," he said.  
Suddenly, Dumbledork stuck a small, baby iguana into the ashes. "See? He's come alive again."  
"No," said Harry. "You just put another iguana there."  
"First you refuse my offer of candy, and now you insult my phoenix. Get out of my office!"  
Harry didn't hesitate.


	13. The Monojuice Potion

**Chapter Thirteen: The Monojuice Potion**

After leaving Dumbledork's office, Harry's phone started jingling the Mortein tune. He quickly looked from side to side to make sure that no one was looking, and took it out.  
"Go 2 teh girls bathrum," said a very badly-written text from Rhon.

Ten minutes later, Hermitwo was proudly flourishing something brown and sludgy in a glass bottle. "The Monojuice Potion is ready!"  
"Looks yummy," said Harry, staring at it mesmerised.  
Hermitwo looked touched. "Thanks," she said. "I'm not much of a cook, but I try...I try..."  
She beamed at Harry and Rhon, who looked comprehending as two llamas that had just had a pizza thrown into their face.  
"Anyway, I've found fingernail samples off Crabbe, Goyle and Melephant Bulstrode. All we need to do is add them to our portion of potion, and wa - lah! We get transformed into slimy Slummins!"

She added a fingernail (which looked suspiciously like a feather) into her potion and drank it. "Mmm...Ribena."

"Uh...Hermitwo? Are you sure that wasn't just a feather you put into the potion?"  
"What do you mean? Of course it was a fingernail. Besides - "  
A second later there was a loud, WA - LAH! and she promptly turned into a rooster.  
"Frammit..." she muttered.  
Harry and Rhon took their own potions, and WA – LAH! subsequently turned into large unpleasant Slummins. Rhon, however, was rather pleased.  
He couldn't seem to stop saying "No freckles! No freckles!" and rubbing his hand over his face.  
Harry backed away. "Let's go to the Slummin Common Room, then..."

Five minutes later, they were outside the portrait door when, luckily, Malfoil came along. "Harry Potter is the world's n00biest n00b," he said to the portrait, which promptly swung open.

Goyle made a small noise of annoyance.

Once they were all sitting around toasting Oreos, Harry decided to bring up the topic.  
"So...how about that Styrofoam monster...?"  
Malfoil paused in mid-Oreo chew. Harry tried to restrain himself from taking one, then decided to just let things be and grabbed the whole packet.  
"What about it?"  
"Well, you know, are you like, its, you know, master?"  
Malfoil stared at him suspiciously. "You wouldn't happen to be Potter in disguise, would you?"  
"Oh, no, not at all," said Harry innocently.  
"Ok then. Just checking. Anyway...for the five trillionth two millionth four hundred and sixty to the power of the negative square root of four plus infinite time, NO!!"  
"I was only checking," said Harry, miffed.  
Rhon wrinkled his nose at the Oreos. "You wouldn't happen to have any...pickles?" he asked.  
Malfoil looked horrified. "Do not speak that word in here!"  
"Schmokay. Hey, don't you think that Rhon Weasley is totally awesome and happy-freckle-filled?"  
"Freckle-filled. Nothing else. And by the way, Crabbe, when did you dye your hair red?"  
"Gtg now," said Harry and Rhon.  
"Hey...when did you two start looking like Harry and Rhon?"  
They quickly left, but Harry made sure to grab Malfoil's Oreo first.

"Hermitwo, Hermitwo, we have to tell you…" cried Rhon as he entered the toilets. "Oh. Uhm…. Hullo…."  
Whiny Wendy was floating two feet above the ground, but rather than whining, she was positively giggling with delight.  
"Omg roflmao," she squeaked with unrestrained glee. She gave both the boys a very saccharine, seductive smile, in so far as it is possible to be seductive while still being saccharine enough to kill a horse with diabetes. "You should see it," she cooed. "It's really… it's really… well, you should see it!" She seemed a little lost for words, but she howled with laughter and kicked the door of the cubicle that contained Hermitwo open (which was quite a feat, seeing as she was made entirely of some kind of bizarre plasma).  
Hermitwo faced Harry and Rhon, who both gaped at her in utter shock.  
"Oh," said Rhon.  
"My," said Harry.  
"God," they both said.  
"Well," sobbed Hermitwo. "I'm a ROOSTER! I must've taken one of Trevor's feathers, rather than a hair."  
Harry nearly had a stroke trying to stave off his laughter, but Rhon looked very considerate.  
"You're a lovely rooster, Hermitwo," he said.  
She actually blushed and there was a lovely awkward moment between them, ruined only by Wendy and Harry waltzing in the background.


	14. The Very Dodgy Diary

**Chapter Fourteen: The Very Dodgy Diary**

Of course, Hermitwo had to be taken to the Hospital Wing. With no-one to bother them to do homework, Rhon and Harry had the week of their lives, until they were both awarded 'ULTIME FAIL OF DOOM' in potions for making their Essence of Green potion cause Professor Snap to sprout curly blonde hair from the tip of his nose.

Harry ran to the boys' bathroom bawling his head off. "I tried my best…" he sniffed. "Why does Snap have to be so mean!?"  
As he stared at his red-eyed reflection in the mirror, Whiny Wendy appeared next to him. "It's because he has to deal with memories of his grandmother bungy-jumping while wearing numerous thesauri on her head."  
"Myrtle!" Harry shrieked. "I mean, Wendy! This isn't a girls' bathroom!"  
"Might as well be one." Wendy coughed. "Anyway!"  
At that moment, a small black notebook whizzed up from a nearby toilet and smacked Harry in the nose.  
Wendy glared at it, but Harry picked it up. "Score! A small black notebook which just whizzed out of a toilet and smacked me on the nose!"  
He ran out of the bathroom giggling loudly, leaving Whiny Wendy with a bemused expression on her face.

The next morning, Harry and Rhon entered the Great Hall to be hit by a wave of pink-ness. Everything was magicked to be pink – there was even pink confetti shaped like miniature hippos falling from the ceiling. They were served strawberry-flavoured bagels with pink icing, and pink cornflakes with pink milk.  
"Eeeeewwwww…" said the whole room, aside from the person who had arranged it all – Professor Heartlock.

"Happy Valentine's day, folks!" He was beaming at all the other staff members and offering them pink grapefruit.

A pink dwarf tugged at Harry's elbow while he was attempting to eat a bagel. He turned to look at it. It was extremely hairy and potato-like – worse still, someone had taken the liberty to stuff it into a tutu. A pink one, naturally.

"I got a message for youse," it said in a grumpy voice. Harry desperately tried to remember the spell for disappearing into the ground, but once again was too late.

"'Is oyes are as green as tha freshest pickle  
'Is hair is as dark as a squashed floi.  
Mah chances wiv 'im are quoite lit' le  
But as a couple I reckon we'd be alroight'.

Harry didn't know what was worse – the crude accent or the fact that everyone laughed and repeated the words to him for the next few weeks. Little did he know that the song would again resurface at his 21st birthday bash.

That evening, still steaming over the events of breakfast, Harry took out the secret diary and opened the diary to the first page. Apart from a rough sketch of a small piece of cheese, it was completely blank. He turned to the second page, where there was a similar sketch. He started to panic, flipping through the rest of the pages. "Whoa…this guy had a thing for cheese…"  
He brightened up, and wrote the word "Cheese" on the page.  
The ink was sucked into the paper, and suddenly, the words "Yay! Cheddar pwns!" appeared, then quickly faded away.  
"Whoa. That's weird," said Harry. "A talking cheese diary."  
"Give me more ink, you fool," the diary said, the words looking more faded.  
Harry tipped the ink bottle on the page, and it was sucked in as well.  
"So…wazzup?" said the diary. Harry shrugged, and wrote, "Things have been happening. Weird things. Styrofoam-y things."  
"Ooh really? And you are?"  
"My name's Harry Potter, beeyatch," wrote Harry.  
"No need to get insulting," the book replied, its writing rather hurt. "Besides, your mumma so ugly –"  
"I don't have a mother," Harry wrote hurriedly. "Voldesmurf killed her. But if you want to insult someone, you could always say my aunt is a horse-faced –"  
"Yes, well," the book snapped quickly. "Anyway…want to go to Candyland?"  
"Where?" said Harry suspiciously.  
"Oh, nowhere," the book wrote casually. "Just the magical land of desserts where everything is wonderful. If you're down and looking for some cheering up, then just come on up to the candy mountain cave…"  
"Riiiiiight. Where do you get your pot?"  
"Pottery barn."  
"Really? I've heard all about them," Harry enthused. "They have great values in all ceramics and terracotta pots and garden ornaments."  
"And the best thing is that they have really low prices!" said the Diary.

That's right, we can also put ads in books now. More fool you.

There was a swirly light, Harry had an odd feeling in his stomach, he was sucked into the diary, and the world turned a weird sepia tone with odd tilted camera angles.  
"Whoa," said Harry. "Sepia."  
He realised he was in a corridor. There was a handsome young prefect striding down the corridor, followed by an old looking wizard.  
"Well, said the boy, whom Harry somehow knew was the boy who had been writing to him through the diary, "I know who released the Styrofoam beast."  
"Really?" said the old wizard.  
"Yes. It's fifty years ago and my name is Schtroumpfy…"  
"What?" asked the old wizard.  
"Oh, nothing. Just narrating my life, in case someone might be watching…"  
"Well, stop it, it's getting on my nerves."  
"Yes, headmaster."

The student and the headmaster continued to walk on in silence. "Besides," began the headmaster, "I don't recall your name being Schtroumph-thingy…wasn't it…hmm…Fitzegbert? Fitzegbert Chumleigh?"

The boy looked horrified. "Professor Crumpet, kindly do not call me that! The name's Voldeschtroumpf."  
"Hey…isn't that the French word for smurf? Heh heh, always loved that show. "  
The boy looked even more horrified. "NOOOOOO! My secret identity has been revealed!"  
"What's that?" asked the professor.  
"Um…I have a propensity for eating veal?  
"Fair enough, fair enough. Though a bit of house-elf is nice for Sunday lunch…"

They turned a corner. "Right here," said the boy.  
Leaning against the wall was a bright pink watering can. Professor Crumpet stared at it.  
"Not that – over there!"  
"What – oh, right!"  
For there was a hairy ten-foot spider lying barely five feet away, chewing on something which looked suspiciously like a corn-dog.

The headmaster had an expression of absolute horror and disbelief, akin to the sort of emotion someone would feel upon discovering that their prized ten-year lint collection had been stolen by the owner of a pillow factory.  
"How on earth did that thing discover my secret stash of corn-dogs?!"  
"Forget the corn-dogs, Professor! This is that absolutely hippish hippy Hiphag's handiwork."  
"ROFL! ALLITERATION!" yelled Harry, waving his arms around.  
"Hiphag? Not Healthy-Earth Hiphag the Environmental Prefect!" cried the professor, horrified.  
"The very same. And what's more, he likes Oreos."  
Professor Crumpet's eyes widened in shock. "The heir of Slummin'!"

Suddenly, Harry felt the same odd feeling in his stomach and was transported back onto his bed.

"Whoa," was the only word he could say for a full fifteen minutes. The sheer strangeness of this new revelation took a while to set in his numbed mind. It took even longer for his mouth to form the words that he could barely believe himself.

"Wait till I tell Rhon and Hermitwo that Hiphag likes Oreos as well!"

"What?!" cried Rhon, and the de-chickenified Hermitwo. "Hiphag likes Oreos?!"  
"Yeah," said Harry. "And I'm reliably informed that he can talk to snakes…"  
"Zomg I didn't say that," said the diary, but the words faded away unnoticed.  
"I can't believe that Hiphag would do anything as horrible as release the Styrofoam beast," said Hermitwo gravely. "It's just not like him. I mean, killing people? Sure it goes towards solving overpopulation, but it causes an awful lot of pollution, what with all the Styrofoam."  
Rhon rolled his eyes. "Well, he does like big animals…"


	15. Big Spiders

**Chapter Fifteen: Big Spiders**

The next day dawned bright and early, just in time for the long-awaited Skeeditch match between Grandmador and Snuffleluff. Schwoodde happily carried out his waking up duties with particularly merriment.

As Harry was rummaging around for socks, he noticed that his room had been completely ransacked. This was difficult to tell at first, since his part of the dormitory was practically a war zone anyway. But his suspicious were confirmed when he found several items missing from his wardrobe and noted the disappearance of his photo album. He shrugged it off, knowing that Colon Creepy was safely Styrofoamed in the hospital wing.

It was two hours later as the Grandmador Skeeditch team finally dragged themselves onto the pitch, when they encountered a particularly bored-looking Professor McGallstone.

"You're late," she said dully. "Go home. Nothing to see here."  
"But there's a pack of blue Chihuahuas flying up there!" cried Rhon, pointing to the sky.  
"Oh. Yeah. Well, aside from that, the Skeeditch match has been cancelled."  
"WHAT?!" cried the Skeeditch team in some anguish, although there were a few whoops of joy and relief. Schwoodde poked these players with a particularly pointy spork.  
"Hermitwo Spaynger has been Styrofoamed. So you're all under house arrest."

"WHAT?!" cried Harry and Rhon in shock and horror. "You're cancelling a Skeeditch game just because of her??"  
"Well, yes. Deal with it. And have some bananas while you're at it."  
"Ewwww…." grimaced the team.  
"Now that we're down here, we should visit Hiphag," said Rhon. "You know, to ask him about the Styrofoam monster. And definitely question him about those Oreos."  
"Um, Rhon…I need to confess something," said Harry. "I also…kind of like…eating…"  
"ZOMG CHIHUAHUA!" said Rhon, as a particularly florid one passed them by in mid-air.  
And so Harry's revelation remained unsaid for many more books to come.

They paused about twenty metres from Hiphag's hut, and stared. There were police cars with flashing lights, uniformed policeman holding donuts, shift-looking detectives and basically the whole hog surrounding the small dwelling.  
A very short, rotund man, who was chewing on some banana-flavoured fudge, spoke through a loud-speaker cone thingy.

"COME OUT, HIPHAG! WE KNOW IT'S YOU!"

"Zomg!" Rhon whispered. "It's Humphrey Toffee-nose, Minister for Magic!"  
Harry glared at the banana-flavoured snack the Minister was holding. "Shunnn…."

Hiphag came out with his humongous dog, and a very dainty pink umbrella in his hand. "IT'S NOT ME!" he said loudly. "BUT IF ANYBODY, PARTICULARLY A COUPLE OF KIDS WHO MIGHT JUST BE STANDING NEARBY AND WHO MIGHT JUST HAPPEN TO HEAR THIS WHO MIGHT JUST WANT TO FIND OUT THE TRUTH…" he coughed and lowered his voice a bit. "Follow the spiders. Not the daddy-long-legs either, you twits. The small brown ones with too many legs."

"They all have too many legs!" wailed Rhon to Harry.

Hiphag made hissing noises as he tried to poke the first policeman. Needless to say, this did not add to his charm. Six stunguns fired at him and he went down faster than a banana facing the sun. Dumbledork trailed out of the hut after him carrying a purple umbrella. "En guarde!" he shrieked.

Although it was obvious he was elderly and very senile, the people holding the stunguns went for him too.

Harry and Rhon hurried onwards into the forest, hoping to find these spiders that Hiphag had spoken of. Not far inwards, they found a trail of silvery spiderweb, and followed it deep into the forest until they came upon a clearing. In the middle of the clearing there was a huge spider with long, lank, greasy hair and a pretty shiny necklace.  
"Oóllén íen maën ícela aen pïdersí udédó," said the spider.  
"Come again?" said Rhon.  
"I said 'Lol I'm a giant spider,'" said the giant spider.  
"Oh," said Rhon. "Glad we cleared that up.  
"Of course," said the giant spider, whose name was Aragorn, "there are other giant spiders here."  
"Cranberries," said Rhon. "I forgot my can of Mortein."  
"I know why you came here," Aragorn continued. "You came to destroy the ring of power- I mean, you came to discover whether Hiphag really opened the Secrety Chamber."  
He waited for a moment for a witty remark. When none came, he continued, "Well, he DIDN'T! And what's more, the very first attack fifty years ago occurred in a bathroom."  
"Hang on," said Harry, with the first reasonable thing he'd ever said in this series suddenly leaping into his head. "We're going to trust the words of a giant spider, who is chronically confused and who is, in all likelihood, about to eat us, against a mysterious black book I found in a toilet which is enchanted to give me dramatic flashbacks of sepia toned events that have a very large probability of being biased?"  
"Well, when you put it like that…" said Rhon. "Run away!"

When danger reared its ugly head,  
He bravely turned his tail and fled. (No!)  
Yes, brave Harry Potter turned about (I didn't)  
And gallantly, he chickened out.

They ran at full pace, as a sea of huge, angry spiders swelled behind them.  
Oh hell, let's just have more singing –

Bravely taking to his feet, (I never did!)  
He beat a very brave retreat, (Oh, lie!)  
Bravest of the brave, Rhon Weasley. (I never!)

And it was then, in their most frightening hour, when there was a herald of loud trumpets and bright dazzling light – and the flying horse-and-buggy appeared out of nowhere.  
"Well, call me a monkey's uncle!" said Rhon.  
"You're a monkey's uncle," said Harry.

They quickly ran towards the vehicle and seated themselves.  
"Go Ploppy go!" said Rhon.  
Ploppy turned around and surveyed the buggy's rider with a bored expression, and yawned.  
"I don't believe this!" said Rhon furiously. He began making a lot of weird noises. "Aye, tch, nah, yah, hah…"  
"Um…what are you doing?" asked Harry.  
"I dunno, it's what the jockeys on wizard telly say during horse races…holy banana!"

A gang of shrieking harpies had alighted around them. Rhon screamed.  
"NOOOOOOOO! Fan girls!"  
Ploppy looked, if it was possible, even more bored.

"Rhon!" Harry shrieked. "Give me a chunk of your hair!"  
Rhon was flabbergasted, but did as he was bid using a handy pair of IKEA scissors from the glove compartment.  
Harry tied the chunk of hair to a string, which he attached to a stick. He leaned forward and stuck the stick at the back of Ploppy's halter so that Rhon's hair was dangling in front of the horse's nose.  
"ZOMG CARROT!" cried Ploppy in glee, sprinting forward like there was no tomorrow.  
"Um…did he just talk?" said Harry.  
"Never mind if he just talked – we're getting away from them!" said Rhon, shooting furtive glances backwards.

After ten minutes or so, they became relaxed enough to talk about their spider-y encounter.  
"Aragorn said that the first attack occurred in a bathroom." Harry chewed some candy, and frowned at the packaging label. You don't think…you don't think that maybe…"  
"…the victim was Whiny Wendy?" said Rhon in horror.  
"Hey! Great brainwave! I was actually just wondering whether these Tic Tacs were past their use-by date."


	16. The Kind of Secret Room

**Chapter Sixteen: The Kind of Secret Room**

The next day, Harry and Rhon decided to wag a class to visit the girls' bathroom and question Wendy about the Styrofoam incident fifty years ago.  
"Okay, it's a toss-up between Defence Against the Dark Aardvark and Potions," said Rhon. "Which one should we miss?"  
Heartlock skipped passed them in the corridor, smelling of hyacinths and treacle.  
"Great lesson in store today, boys!" he said cheerily, waving a floral-patterned oven mitten. "As a special treat, we're going to have a cooking class! We'll be baking my favourite, Pink Elf Cupcakes!"  
"I think the answer to your question is obvious," said Rhon, shuddering, as soon as Heartlock had left.  
"Right…" said Harry. "Well, we have Defence right now, so I guess we can start making our way to the bathroom…"

On the way, however, Professor McGallstone swooped down on them from behind a handy stuffed grizzly bear.  
"Well, boys, where would you be off to?" she asked, her nostrils in ultra-flare mode.  
"Umm…class?" suggested Harry.  
"Then why are you carrying a basket of Tic Tacs?  
"Umm…picnicking?"  
"Actually," said Rhon, elbowing Harry hard in the head, "we were going to visit Hermitwo. To tell her everything is, uh, going to be alright. She, um, likes Tic Tacs, you see."

Professor McGallstone's lip quivered, and for a moment, Harry thought she was about to cry.

Instead, she collapsed on the floor laughing her head off.  
"BAHAHAHAHAH! They actually thought I would fall for that?!"

Harry and Rhon quickly escaped during her highly-disturbing rofl.  
"Um, Harry?" asked Rhon as they were running down the corridor.  
"Yes Rhon?"  
"Could we go visit Hermitwo anyway?"  
Harry shot him a suspicious look. "Whyyyy?  
Rhon pouted. "Becaaaaaaause."  
"Fiiiiiiiiine.

In the hospital wing, Hermitwo looked frozen and completely immobile. Harry stared at her face, which was the pallid colour and texture of Styrofoam. For once, her mouth was unmoving.

"Harry! Look what I found in her hand!"  
"Ummm…why were you holding it?"  
"Be quiet – just read it!"  
Rhon held out a crumpled piece of paper, on which the words IT'S IN THE PIPES, YOU PEABRAINS were neatly written.  
"Well! I guess we were on the right track after all. Shall we go to Whiny Wendy, then?"  
"Yeah," said Rhon. "One sec –"  
He magicked up a large plushie book and tucked it into the crook of Hermitwo's elbow. Harry raised one eyebrow about ten feet.  
"She might get lonely," said Rhon defensively.

They quickly arrived at the Girls Bathrooms, where Whiny Wendy appeared before them.  
"It's been ages since you've come. I'm so BORED," she whined.  
"Yes, quite," Harry rushed. "Listen, we've come to ask you something- when you, uhm... were killed..."  
"Oooh, that's really interesting," Wendy shrieked shrilly. "Oooh, I remember it like it was only fifty years ago..."  
"Damn flashbacks," muttered Rhon as another sepia-toned one headed towards them...

They were in a sepia-toned bathroom, when a sepia-toned girl rushed in bawling her eyes out.  
"Ah yes," said Whiny Wendy, who was still present as a ghostly apparition behind them. "This happened just after that complete hanky-dooly, Olive Hornby, made that nasty comment about my gallbladder."  
"Hanky-dooly?" said Harry in a questioning tone.  
"No time to chat, just watch!"  
A sink seemed to suddenly cave back into itself through the wall, and a large, Styrofoam-ish foot stepped out.  
"ZOMG BIGFOOT THE YETI!" Rhon shrieked.  
"Be quiet!" said Wendy, munching on some popcorn.  
The sepia-toned girl looked into the wall's opening and screamed. Two seconds later, she had turned into Styrofoam.  
The foot retreated. The sink appeared again.  
A frizzy-haired, bossy looking girl tramped in. "Where are you, Wendy?" she shrilled. "You know I didn't mean to say it like that…well, okay, I did, but does it matter?"  
She turned and saw Wendy, completely Styrofoamed.  
"Oh, very funny, Your idea of a joke, is it? Cyanoacrylate!"  
A jet of Superglue erupted from her wand and dosed Wendy, who began to melt.  
"Hah! Bet you didn't see that one coming. Now…how on earth do you reverse this charm?"  
Harry and Rhon were suddenly transported back to the present.  
"So that's how you died," said Harry. "It wasn't really because of the monster, though…"  
"No," said Wendy grimly. "I've never looked at instant adhesives the same way again after that."

The next few days passed in a blur for Harry. The teachers had tried to set exams for the students as usual, but gave up after half the school went on a study strike.

One afternoon, when Harry and Rhon were sitting in the Common Room arguing over socks, Hogwimps' extremely ancient and crackly PA system came to life.  
"Attention cough students. Gin eck Weasley has disappeared. It is believed ack that she has been taken into the Styrofoam monster's lair. a'choo. This cannot continue. Hogwimps will garg close in three days. Please bibble contact your parents to pick you up. Otherwise you could just take noodlehead the train. Thankyou."

Harry and Rhon stared at each other in horror.  
"I guess I'll have to play the hero again and save your sister and the whole school again, eh?"  
"Well, DUH."  
"We need help, though. Who in this school has faced fearsome creatures and lived to take advantage of its great merchandising potential?"  
Rhon gave him a look.

Two minutes later, they rang Heartlock's very pink doorbell.  
"Come in!" someone sang from inside.  
Harry and Rhon entered, and were hit by a blast of lilac, purple, pink and for some reason, leopard print. Robes, shoes, gloves, and hats were strewn all over the room. In the midst of it all was Heartlock, making a very unsuccessful but vigorous attempt to stuff everything he owned in a small carry bag.

"You're leaving?" said Rhon in disbelief.  
Exhausted, Heartlock wiped his brow and stared at him. "No, no, I'm going to a picnic with a troll," he said sarcastically.  
"But – you need to help us save Gin'n'Tonic!"  
"Don't be ridiculous! I might chip a nail." He wasn't sarcastic this time.  
"But – all your achievements – all the stuff you did in your books!"  
"My dear boy," tutted Heartlock. "Facts need to be – stretched – just a little – for books to sell. No one wants to read about how I outwitted a stubborn shop keeper – hence, in my book, I made a simple modification and turned him into a Sphinx instead."  
"You're even more of a hanky-dooly than I thought," growled Harry.  
"Hanky-dooly?"  
"No time for chit-chat!"

The two boys raised their wands. "Come and help us – and Gin - and probably the whole school – or we'll hex you."  
Heartlock laughed loudly.  
They aimed for his hair. His expression turned to one of terror.

Five minutes later, the three of them were in the girls' bathroom. Harry turned to the sink.  
"Open up," he said.  
"English," said Rhon, shaking his head.  
"Open up," Harry tried again. The sink didn't budge.  
"Open sesame."  
There was a silence.  
"Darn!"  
"Wait, Harry!" Rhon magicked up a plushie snake. "Say it to this!"  
"Open up," Harry said, but this time it came out as a hiss and two squeaks. Just like in the memory, the sink seemed to collapse into the wall, revealing a large opening.  
Harry wondered whether to ask Rhon about his expertise in plushie making, but then decided against it. He clambered in through the entrance instead.

Rhon shook his head as he climbed in after Harry. "Of all the places in Hogwimps, Slummin-Chumleigh just had to station his secret hide-out in the girls' bathroom…"

Harry suddenly shrieked as he slipped over a misplaced banana peel and he slid down, down, through an endless, dark, slimy slide. He heard Rhon behind him, and even the distant yelps of Heartlock exclaiming "Eww, dirt!" and "The hair! Not the hair!"

The three of them landed in a pile of mud, school robes and bright lilac.  
Heartlock saw his chance. Snatching Rhon's wand, he pointed at the two boys and yelled, "Squiggly wiggly hocus majiggly!"  
There was a bang and a blinding flash of light. The wand backfired and Heartlock turned into a shrew.

There was an awkward pause.

"Ummm….my hand slipped…" said Heartlock.  
"I'll take that," said Rhon, annoyed, snatching his wand back.

All of a sudden, the rocks above their heads started to crack from the force of the spell. A few seconds later, chunks of stone and dirt began to fall. The tunnel thundered with the roar of the numerous echoes. Within moments Harry and Rhon were separated by a massive wall of broken debris.

"Well, darn," said Harry.

There was a squeak. Harry assumed that Rhon had given just Heartlock a hearty kick.

Harry turned to face the dark tunnel by himself.  
"Well – I guess I'll be going now," Harry said in a quiet voice.  
There was no reply.  
"I said - well, I guess I'll be going now!" Harry said a bit louder.

"Oh, right! Good luck, then." Rhon was munching on something that sounded suspiciously like marshmallows. "Mmm…who knew that lilac robes could conceal so much candy?"  
"Oi! Save me the Oreos – I mean, Tic-Tacs. Yeah, Tic-Tacs."  
"Will do."

And Harry walked off into the darkness to face the unknown.


	17. The Heir of Slummin

**Chapter Seventeen: The Heir of Slummin**

Harry stumbled forwards through the darkness, clutching wildly at invisible strands of unknown substances, breathing hard, as what could have been a dramatic underscore (or perhaps just the reverberations of Rhon whistling off tune while carelessly stomping on the be-shrewed Heartlock every second beat) built up behind him. As the music reached fever pitch (and off pitch- it was Rhon after all), Harry stumbled into thin, grey, watery light.  
He blinked hard.

For some reason he had made it to a huge underground lake- perhaps a fairly regular architectural anomaly in Parisian opera houses, but rather innocuous here (Harry felt a little over dressed and began searching his robes for a porcelain half-mask and a portable church organ). Suddenly, as if by magic- who am I kidding? I mean to say- Suddenly, by magic, and with a dull thud, a dark, leather bound book fell to the shore of the lake.  
"Oh!" said Harry in surprise. "It's the diary!"

An ethereal laugh rippled through the cavernous...cavern. Harry jumped, startled, and then opened the book.

"Hello, Harry," said the boy from the diary, who was levitating above the black waters.  
"F-F-Fitzegbert?" asked Harry, clutching the diary to his chest.  
"Of course," Tom replied, and touched down on the shore. "Who else?"  
"Fitzegbert," said Harry, breathing a sigh of relief. "You have to help me find Gin'n'Tonic! She's down here somewhere- the Styrofoam beast has her!"  
"Does he now?' asked Fitzegbert in a very bored tone, as he casually inspected his fingernails.  
"Don't tell me the famous Harry Potter, the brilliant Skeeditch player, the Headmaster's favourite... don't tell me you haven't figured it out yet?"  
Harry blunk. "Haven't figured what out?" Then he snapped his fingers. "Oh, that you're Voldesmurf? I figured that one out ages ago. Just tell me where Gin is."  
"See, if you rearrange the letters in my name- Fitzegbert Chumleigh - you get... well, you don't really get anything, I was never any good at anagrams, but you get my- WHUH??"  
"Seriously, what is with wizards and crappy English?" Harry his rolled eyes to the sky.  
"No!" snapped Fitzegbert sharply. "Never! Prepare to die! Even though this is my past self trying to kill you, so that my future self which to you is my present self is trying to kill you at the same time, thus if I kill you now I never would have been defeated meaning that the Chamber never would have been opened allowing me to kill you-"

"What?" asked Harry. "I tuned out during the last bit."

"Never mind!" Fitzegbert screamed. "Just prepare to d- HOLY CRAP FLYING IGUANA!"  
And with that, Spewnz the Iguana swooped over his head and landed on Harry's shoulder.  
"Neat!" said Harry, and Spewnz dropped a packet of Oreos into his hands. Harry's face fell.  
"I know, Spewnz, I know I love Oreos. I should have been in Slummin, okay, I get it, fine."  
Then a firefly flew over his noggin and an idea formed. "Spewnz, you're a genius!"  
Fitzegbert began to make weird hissing noises, and from out of the gloom reared an enormous, ginormous- snake-beaver-thing, with sneakers. Made entirely from Styrofoam.  
"Gnaggh!" Harry cried, and ran.  
The huge Styrofoam beast gave chase, but Spewnz leaped from Harry's shoulder, and launched at the beasts face, attacking the weird fang-teeth that protruded from its head-thing. Well, whatever it was, it was non-biodegradable.

Harry flung the packet of Oreo's into the air. "HEY FITZEGBERT," he yelled. "CATCH!"  
Fitzegbert stared up, his innate Slummin nature requiring his full attention of the Slummin cookie of choice. "So... delicious," he moaned.

Harry whipped out his wand. "Quasius Latinus!" he cried, pointing at the book where he had dropped it on the floor. It exploded into flames. The last thing he saw before he passed out was Gin'n'Tonic running up to him, yelling, "You did it Harry! You did it! Thank goodness you found me in this secret-underschool-lake-and-tanning-salon! I might never have escaped!"

He then knew no more. Well, until the next chapter. OBVIOUSLY.


	18. Snitchy’s Rather Undeserved Reward

**Chapter Eighteen: Snitchy's (Rather Undeserved) Reward**

When he woke up, Dumbledork was leaning over him.

"Whoa," mumbled Harry. "Deja vu."  
"Well, I'm not a fan of Denzel Washington myself," Dumbledork began, but was silenced by Harry's glare. "Well," the Headmaster continued. "This is the part where I debrief you... AND THE AUDIENCE (here he winked)... on the results of the story with some bizarre turns of phrase and the word alas." He reached into his robes. "By the bye, Harry, I thought you might like a little keepsake." He produced the charred remains of Fitzegbert's diary.  
"Feral," Harry muttered. "Still, I might be able to squeeze one final piece of closure from this before I head home."  
"I have no doubt you will," said Dumbledore quietly, eyes twinkling.

"But sir," said Harry slowly. "I've been thinking over the course of the year... maybe I shouldn't be in Grandmador, sir? I love Oreos too much."  
Dumbledork smiled kindly. "Yes, but we all have vices we must resist-"  
At this point Professor Snap entered the room with a box of healing potions.  
"I made you some more healing potions," he said in a bored drawl to the Matron. "I guess I'll just go back to the dungeon and grumble nasally until the end of year feast."  
Dumbledork gave a little fangirly squee.

Snap backed out slowly.

"As I was saying," Dumbledork continued as if the little interlude had not occurred, "Only a true Grandmador could resist Oreos- you see, all Grandmador students secretly love Oreos- they just have the strength of character, the moral fibre, and the lactose intolerance to resist them."

Harry beamed, and Dumbledore beamed back.

At that moment, Malfoil Snr, followed by a very grumpy-looking Snitchy, barged into the room.

"You were meant to be fired! I, Dumbledork, am extremely annoyed!"  
"Tsk, tsk, you always did have a tendency for that particular sentiment. Chocolate frog?"  
"This isn't a time for chocolate frogs, Headmaster! I demand justice!"  
"That's an odd thing for someone like you to say…considering that you obviously find it amusing to spike children's kiddie meals with dodgy talking diaries possessed by the memory of a diabolically evil person with an affinity with cheese."

"I – I – you lie!" spluttered Malfoil. "He never, ever liked cheese!"  
"I can contradict you there," said Dumbledork. "You don't know Fitzegbert Chumleigh like I did. And what's wrong with Snitchy?"  
"Oh, nothing," said Malfoil carelessly. "He's just annoyed that he didn't get to hurt Harry Potter further."

As Harry stared at the diary on his bedside table, an idea formed in his mind. He grabbed a handy handtowel and slipped it inside before Malfoil turned to him.

Malfoil picked up the diary. "And I'll take this," he sniffed. "Borgin had better give me a decent refund."

He passed the diary to Snitchy, and the handtowel slipped out.

"HA!" said Harry.  
Everyone turned to stare at him.  
"Well…isn't Snitchy free now?"  
"What? How does a handtowel make him free?" said Malfoil. "It isn't clothing."  
"No, but wait – it isn't an ordinary handtowel. It's an authentic, Grecian mini TOGA!"  
Everyone continued staring at him.

"Umm…I'll shut up now."  
"That would be a good idea, Mr Potter sir," said Snitchy.  
"Meh," said Malfoil. "Be free, elf, do whatever you want. Maybe it would be useful for that son of mine to clean up after his own play-dough castle for once."  
Snitchy was beside himself in joy. "Oh, this is wonderful! I can continue protecting Harry Potter's wellbeing for the rest of my life!"  
Harry lobbed a carrot at him.

At the end of year feast, everyone was in a general jolly mood; especially since the Styrofoamed peoples were rendered normal again with Professor Sproutalot's Foetidus flower potion. Hermitwo was still sniffling a bit though, from bursting into tears after hearing that she had missed all her exams. Grandmador won the House Cup for the second year in a row. The last few days passed by in a flash of sunshine, late-night parties and severe overindulgence in the chocolate aspect.

On the train ride back to King's Cross, Harry, Rhon and Hermitwo were discussing the year when Hermitwo pulled out a scrap of parchment, scribbled something and shyly handed it to Rhon.

He stared at it. "Uhm…what's with all these numbers? You know it's illegal for wizards to tamper with the Muggle lottery."  
"No, it's my phone number, you twerp. It's so you can call me over the telephone during the holidays."  
"So – I use a fellytone to do a whatsit?  
"Oh, just ask your dad, you pickle."

Harry gave his number to Rhon at well. "You better call me too," he threatened. "Or I'll send a gang of shrieking harpies after you."

Rhon looked at both phone numbers in his hand and didn't know which option was worse.

THE END!


	19. Author's Note

Hi all! Our new Deviantart account is caseus-archives.

Hope to see you there! :)


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